


Collared

by muzzleofbees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Smut, Sub!Dean, fic prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:50:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muzzleofbees/pseuds/muzzleofbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has been talking dirty and teasing Cas all day. Cas is use to this cocktease but a witch hunt has most of Team Free WIll's attention. The hunt is finally wrapped up and they get back to the bunker high on the kill. Sam skips off to the bar to celebrate with 2 other hunters. Cas lets Dean think he's the one in control until he pulls out the leather collar from his bag and demands him to put it on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collared

Letting Dean know that Cas could read his mind had been the biggest mistake of his existence. Dean had absolutely filthy thoughts, and he knew exactly how to direct them into Castiel. He never let on for a second. Sam knew Dean had a ribald sense of humor, but even he would never expect how depraved and decadent and nasty Dean was. Cas found himself blushing--actually blushing--several times a day, and when Dean noticed he just sent him a sly little smile. And then think of a new way to make Castiel uncomfortable. 

At least when they were working a case, Dean didn’t have quite so much time to devote to his very, very active imagination. He actually had other thoughts occasionally pass through his mind, and he spent less energy on his praying. The night they went after a witch in Munsey, Cas was afforded several hours of peace and quiet while Dean focused on the important task of staying alive. Cas considered himself lucky until the threat passed and the witch’s headless body was safely disposed of. The second Dean’s mind was no longer on the threat, he was praying again. Cas made a very undignified sound that had Sam sending him a curious look. 

“You okay, Cas?” 

“Fine.” 

“You’re not hurt or anything are you?” 

“Yeah, Cas.” Dean’s lips twitched. “You sounded a little...whimpery.” 

“I’m fine,” Cas said, as evenly as he could. Gonna put you in a sweet little collar and a short chain, Dean’s voice, oddly urgent, Use it to hold you down while I fuck your throat raw. Cas didn’t know if the accompanying image was from Dean or his own mind’s devising, but he saw it as clearly, as vividly, as he saw Sam’s concerned eyes. Dean’s body rising and flexing above his as he thrust into Cas’s mouth, the chain wrapped around his tight fist, giving Cas no choice but to open his throat and swallow around his shaft. 

He turned away from Sam, awkwardly crawling into the back of the Impala. Sometimes the mortal vessel was so inconvenient. Or maybe it was only Dean Winchester, who pushed his buttons with complete disregard to the fact that Castiel didn’t always have complete control over his “meat suit.” 

If Cas had any question of whether or not Dean noticed, that was answered when Dean put the car in reverse, looked over his shoulder, glanced pointedly at Cas’s lap and smirked. Cas’s jaw tightened, his mouth pulling into a grim frown that only seemed to amuse Dean more. Clearly, he had allowed this to go on for too long. Clearly, Dean needed to be reminded which one of them was the limited mortal and which one of them was a powerful wave of celestial intent. 

Sam had the uncanny ability to sense when Dean wanted him to leave. Or maybe the brothers had long ago worked out a signal that was too subtle for Cas to notice. Either way, Sam announced he was going to the bar with a few other hunters attracted to the witch’s over-the-top human sacrifices, and he probably wouldn’t be back for a few hours. 

Dean barely looked up from the gun he was cleaning. “Make good choices.” 

As soon as the door closed, his interest in the weapon completely evaporated. He rose and approached like an animal on the prowl, pausing long enough to search his bag. His small smile disappeared as he pawed through the duffel. 

“I know I put it in here.” 

“Are you looking for this?” Cas held up the collar and chain. “Come here.” 

Dean looked surprised by the direct order and didn’t immediately respond. Cas watched him patiently, letting Dean know without moving a muscle that he had all night, and he would happily wait, but Dean didn’t have a choice in the matter. Dean was a good boy, though, and he didn’t make Cas wait for long. He approached, holding Cas’s gaze until they were toe to toe, and then his eyes dropped. 

Cas pressed the collar against Dean’s palm. “Put it on.” 

Dean took it and lifted it to his neck. His clever fingers quickly fastened it, the silver chain hanging down his chest. Cas reached for it and coiled it around his fingers before folding them into a tight fist. He yanked, hard, and Dean stumbled forward. He wrapped his other arm around Dean’s waist, imprisoning him in his embrace. Dean swallowed hard, raising his eyes again. 

“Did you really think you could collar an angel of the lord?” 

“Well...yeah.” 

Cas pulled on the chain, forcing Dean to bend at the knees and lower himself to the motel’s thin carpet. Dean’s hands went behind his back, the fingers of his right forming a loose ring around his left wrist, but his spine was rigid, his jaw tight. Cas pushed his fingers through Dean’s hair, stroking soothingly over his scalp before clutching his hair in a tight fist. He yanked Dean’s head back while he pulled on the chain, forcing Dean to meet his eyes. 

Dean’s color was high, his pupils blown wide, and his mouth parted. His tongue darted out, disappeared, and then reappeared in the other corner of his mouth. His attention kept drifting downward to Castiel’s mouth, and Cas tightened his grip. 

“Look at me.” 

Dean’s attention immediately returned to Cas’s eyes. 

“Undo my pants.” 

Dean kept his gaze level as he worked Castiel’s belt loose and unzipped his pants. Cas sighed with relief as the pressure against his heavy erection eased. 

“Take me out,” he said thickly. 

Dean pulled him free of his clothes, stroking his palm from the tip to the base and back up again. He looked up, waiting for Cas’s next orders, the challenge gone from his eyes. In fact, he looked like a hungry wolf within striking distance of his prey. 

“Kiss me,” Cas ordered, a little winded. 

With his eyes still locked on the angel’s, Dean pursed his lips together and pressed them to the tip of Cas’s head. Warmth rushed from the point of contact to his groin and he felt the a cool touch of fluid at his slit. Dean’s tongue darted out, collecting the drop of pre-come before he leaned back. Cas pulled on the chain as soon as he lost the soft warmth of Dean’s mouth. 

“Open up.” 

Dean slowly obeyed, licking his bottom lip, making it glisten in to the room’s cheap yellow light. He still had his right hand buried in Dean’s hair, and he used his grip to guide Dean forward, onto his aching flesh. His mouth was so hot it was almost painful against his overly-sensitive skin, but losing the heat would be even more unpleasant. He felt the pressure of Dean’s teeth, the tips just catching over his skin as he slid forward. He slapped Dean gently with the chain wrapped around his fingers. 

“Open up, I said.” 

The feeling of his teeth disappeared, and there was only wet heat, taking him deeper and deeper. The muscles in the back of Dean’s throat relaxed, and he guided Dean all the way down, until his nose was buried in the hair at his base. It felt so good, Cas didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay right where he was, preferably forever. Dean could hold his breath for a long time, but when he released a shaky huff of hair, Cas allowed him to pull back. Not much, but enough to fill his lungs with oxygen again. As soon as he took a deep breath, Cas snapped his hips forward. Dean gagged, but Cas didn’t relent. He knew exactly how to cant his hips, knew how to find a punishing rhythm--after all, Dean had already shown him exactly how he would have done it. 

For a long stretch of time, there wasn’t a single sound except the wet, smacking sound of Cas burying himself in Dean’s throat again and again. He swallowed back his moans, tried to keep Dean’s name from jumping off the tip of his tongue, but it was a losing battle. He might have had Dean on his knees, but Dean had played him perfectly. If nothing else, he could tell from the sense of satisfaction rolling off him in waves.

Somehow, Cas had still managed to give Dean exactly what he wanted. 

But it felt too good to care about who was controlling whom. Every time Dean gagged and resisted the tight restraint around his throat, something deliciously sharp stabbed through Cas and made his flesh twitch. Every time Dean looked up at him through the fringe of his long lashes, the ground shifted violently beneath his feet. All he could do was hold on tight and try to stumble to his knees when he felt Dean’s tongue wiggled and slid over him, or when he moaned with Cas all the way down his throat, and he felt the vibrations a split second before he heard the hungry sound. 

Dean regularly dismantled every mechanism of self-control Cas had, and even when he had had nothing but his mouth to work with, he took Cas apart piece by piece. He held out as long as he could, resisting the rising tide of pleasure, but Dean was a determined competitor, and he hated to lose. 

“Oh, Dean!” He flooded the back of Dean’s throat, and Dean dutifully swallowed it all, milking Cas’s of every drop until he was completely spent and barely standing on shaking knees. 

Cas had a thought that maybe he could still gain the upper hand, but when he pulled Dean to his face, he saw the dark stain on the front of his jeans. 

“Did you...?” Cas gestured at him with some confusion. His pants were still zipped. How had he reached climax without anybody even touching him? Fully clothed still. 

“Of course. You have no fucking idea how sexy you are, do you?” 

Castiel’s hand had gone lax on the chain, and Dean yanked it through his fingers and then looped it around the back of Cas’s neck. In the next instant, he found himself caught in a hot, deep kiss, the salty taste of his own cum coating every inch of Dean’s tongue. Cas had been played, but he couldn’t say he minded very much. Not when they still had time for so many more games before Sam returned.


End file.
